Failed Prophecy
by andrhats
Summary: A mysterious elf, an equally mysterious human boy and their journey across the lands of Cyrodiil in search of the emperor's last heir while fullfilling an enigmatic prophecy that somehow links them all together. On indefinite hiatus.
1. Meetings

Okay, first fanfiction, but not first story. I have an account on fictionpress under the name andrhars for those who are interested.

Disclaimer: I don't own The Elder Scrolls IV: Oblivion. Bethesda Softworks does. If I _was_ the owner, you would've seen some very strange things in the game.

* * *

**Failed Prophecy**

**Chapter 1 **

* * *

The walls were closing in on her, like they wanted nothing else but to squash her into a fine pulp. Her breath came in short bouts, her chest burning with each intake. Her feet hurt as if they'd been stepped on thousands upon thousands of times. Her eyes were blurry, making her unable to see anything but the light of the burning torch in her hand and the few feet it illuminated in front of her. She could hear the growling and squeaking of rats and goblins alike behind her, trying to catch her, to kill her. The floor was of stone, neatly laid in place and carefully fit into the larger picture. She vaguely noted that she was climbing up a staircase, stubbing her toes on every step. She checked quickly if the amulet and necklace were still on her person. It was. She ran over a bridge. A crude arrow flew by and embedded itself into the wall inches from her head, all unnoticed by the running woman. Only one thing went through her head now. _Escape…have to escape…_

She rounded a corner and entered a larger room, no longer in the narrow tunnels beneath the Imperial City. She could, with her severely limited vision, spot a small prick of light ahead of her. _Daylight._ She whirled around when she noticed something moving in the corner of her eye. Nothing was there. Savagely shaking her head, she started running again, unaware of the blood that seeped from her toes where her nails had been ripped out by who knows what. All she could think about was that light, the possible escape from the hellish labyrinth. The light grew larger. She could now see that the light was in the end of a perfectly circled tunnel. She used the very last reserves of her strength to increase her running speed…and ran right into the rusty iron bars blocking the way. She swore she could see stars while she lay for what felt like an eternity as the impossibly agonising pain in her head and nose ebbed slowly away.

She contemplated staying there until the pain went away all together, but when the squeaking and growling grew in loudness she quickly got back on her aching feet and hurled herself at the gate she could dimly see, hoping that it would give. It did, and she ran as fast as she could toward the light, knowing that goblins and various other residents of the tunnels despised sunlight more than anything in all of Nirn. Fresh air washed over her as she approached it, promising warm summer and endless rolling hills of green. Her chest still ached considerably, but the change of air seemed to remedy it fast. The light expanded, and she was outside…

* * *

"Heh, looks like someone will be missing their lunch," he said quietly to himself as he looked at the bandits talking and laughing amongst themselves while they went into the Ayleid ruins. "I can't believe they're going to let all that meat just lay about like that."

If one were to look at his location, they would see nothing. His light green cloak and hood made him blend in perfectly with his surroundings. For all intents and purposes, he was currently part of the foliage behind a large leaf tree. Of course, _his_ intentions were slightly different than the one looking at him. He was hungry, and fruits and vegetables can only last that long before a boy's body starts craving something else, especially this one. The last of the bandits disappeared inside, overcome by their greed at the leader's promise of treasure beyond their wildest dreams.

He waited for a minute, making sure they wouldn't come out and catch in the act, after which he ducked out from behind the tree and jogged slowly towards the camp. He had learned his lesson after far too many surprises in similar situations. Sure, he'd been younger, but one quickly learns that things never change just because you grow older…at least not with bandits and their food supplies. He readied his club just in case. He positioned himself behind a wall and peeked around it. Two small tents and a burning fire, just as he had observed. Sneaking slowly over to the bag next to the first tent, he took a quick look at the mighty walls of the Imperial City, White Gold Tower standing proud and tall, daring anyone to try to knock it down. The Ayleids knew how to build everlasting buildings, at least with the cities. The ruins around him right now were…less impressive. Walls were giving in to mould and other erosion, leaving behind small pieces of the once pure white stone fortresses and towns.

He noticed a building on a small outcrop on the island. The all-too famous Imperial Prison. He shuddered as he thought about the stories he'd heard from visitors and former prisoners. Going there was one of his least desires, which was why he tended to avoid cities in general. Not that it would be a problem for him to break out, of course; he wasn't a self-proclaimed master of lock-picking and guard-avoiding for nothing. He took a brief look at the barred sewer disposal tunnel on another small island close to the ruins he was currently stealing food at. He had heard that a system of ancient tunnels and passages could lead someone nearly anywhere in the city, and he sometimes longed to test out the theory, but would always come to his senses immediately afterwards, physically slapping himself for even thinking about it.

He threw himself behind some crates that were placed in a corner-piece of wall, most likely to hold garbage and other waste. Wishing he'd remembered to gather his long black hair in a pony-tail before he went to steal since it kept falling into his eyes where he was crouching, he watched as one of the bandits staggered out, drunk as few can be.

'_I guess they've started to celebrate already_,' he thought. How someone can so possibly drunk in such short time was a mystery to him. He realised how quickly afterwards. The drunken bandit wasn't one of those who had been outside when he was spying. '_Someone started earlier than the others…I would've too, I guess.'_

The bandit lurched a little where he stood, complained loudly and cursed at the sun shining brightly in the sky and promptly collapsed to the ground, singing a shanty in his sleep, an old sailor, possibly.

He slowly came out from behind the crates and went back to checking the bag he had opened before the bandit came out. It was empty. He grunted in dissatisfaction and looked over to the other tent. A very well taken care-of barrel stood next to it, a rock weighing the lid down, a tell-tale sign of badly stored meat. '_Oh well, meat's meat,'_ he thought and went over to it, bashing the passed-out bandit over the head with his club as he passed him just to make sure he wouldn't wake while he robbed the gang.

He opened the barrel carefully, almost vomiting when the smell of rotting, maggot-infested meat assaulted his nose. He didn't bother looking further down the barrel fir any meat that wasn't spoiled. There was only one possibility left: Inside the ruins and he wasn't too keen on the idea. He had quite a dilemma on his hands. He could either risk his health and possibly his life by going into the ruins and stealing from the gang in there or go back to his hideout and sustain himself with apples and carrots. '_Hard decision…'_

Fortunately, at least for him, he didn't have to make the choice. A feminine screaming noise filled his ears from somewhere behind him, from across the lake, as a matter of fact. He circled around the tent and wall and looked at the island the prison was located on. A young woman was running around, screaming her head off while stumbling on rocks and whatnot. He didn't quite grasp what was happening until she ran down the small dock jumped into the cold lake water…and didn't emerge.

Instincts took over and sent him into the water as well; ignoring Slaughterfish and Mudcrabs and hoping that there weren't any stray Dreughs in the area as well. The water was very cold despite it being summer and warm like nothing else. Swimming to the general area where the girl had disappeared, he looked up and down until he spotted something bouncing off the sunlight. Hair! He quickly swam downwards to it and saw that it was indeed the screaming maniac that had jumped off the dock. He hooked his elbows under her arms and started kicking his legs to get them away from the dark depths. His chest was starting to burn from the lack of air, which made him kick all the harder.

When his head finally cleared the barrier between water and air, he took several deep gulps of air. Realising that the girl was unconscious and not breathing, he paddled over to the prison island. Dragging the still body ashore, he threw himself to his knees and laid his ear to her chest. Not a sound. He positioned his hands over her chest over her heart and started pumping, pausing to blow air into her mouth to encourage her to breathe on her own. It felt like he did it forever, but when she suddenly started coughing up water, he laid her on her side so she wouldn't drown herself. '_Again,'_ he added mentally.

She stopped coughing and collapsed on her back again, breathing quickly. He looked at her, wondering if she was awake at all or if it was just her body working automatically. "Hey, are you awake?" he tried. No response. "Hey, I said 'are you awake'?" he tried again. No response. He gave up and sat down beside her. He finally noticed that she wasn't a human. It bugged him, for he couldn't figure out exactly _what_ she was. She was an elf, of that he was sure when he saw the pointed ears, but she didn't have the basic appearance of an Altmer, Dunmer or Bosmer. Her hair was a very bright shade of blonde, and her face extremely pale, most likely from the lack of sun. She was also very thin, like she hadn't eaten properly in months. She was wearing some very old pieces of leather huntsman's armour that looked like they'd been lying on the bottom of a chest for a couple of decades, and her feet were bare. The feet themselves were a grisly sight of torn out toenails and scratches and cuts. Nicks and bruises littered the pieces of visible skin, and she had what looked like a developing black eye. '_What happened to you?' _he asked himself. He didn't want to guess her age, knowing that most elves could live to be centuries old, but he estimated that she was not very old, even by elven standards..

Her breathing had evened out, and he was convinced she was okay now, just very tired. Which brought him to the next problem. They were both soaking wet, and if there was anything he knew, it was that near-drowning victims should never be cold. He briefly contemplated the well-known body heat principle, but when he took one look at the sleeping elf, his mind was filled thoughts that weren't _that_ appropriate for the situation at hand. Instead, he opted to light a fire. He always carried some pieces of flint with him in case he had to light a fire, and the dock nearby provided some very convenient firewood in the form of old crated and barrels. Having made his decision, he stood up and tore off his wet and heavy cloak and went to work.

* * *

The fire blazed warmly and he warmed his freezing hands. Even though the sun was shining and the weather in general was warm, he still couldn't get his own hands warm. The girl was lying as close to the fire as he could place her without risking setting her on fire. He had, to his relief, discovered that she was wearing tattered clothing under her leather armour and had wasted no time in removing said leather so they wouldn't prevent her from being heated. During this he had also saw that she was wearing what looked like bracers around her wrists. The kind that prisoners chained to walls have. That was one less mystery for him to solve: she was an escaped prisoner, though what she possibly could have done to deserve the kind of treatment her appearance hinted at still eluded him. He had often heard stories about the guards being unnecessarily brutal, and sometimes, if the prisoner was a woman, they would…he shook his head, the thought was too disconcerting.

A groan from his side caught his attention and he turned his head to the source. The girl had sat up, rubbing her head painfully, her eyes screwed shut. He looked confused on as she started shaking her head and mumbling to herself unintelligibly. He caught a few words. "Emperor…heir…Weynon…Jauffre…"

Worried that she had lost her mind, he coughed slightly, hoping that she would notice him. She did. Her head whirled around so quickly that he was confused how her neck could handle it without snapping. When the saw him, her face adopted a panicked expression and she scrambled away, eventually backing up into a tree, too weak to stand on her own legs.

"Hey, hey, don't worry, you're safe," he said carefully. She kept looking at him with wide eyes. "Listen, I saw you jump into the water, and when you didn't come up I got worried and then I jumped in and rescued you and…" he clamped his jaw shut when he realised he was babbling. _'As if talking like a fool is going to help here.'_

He sat back down, wondering if that would make her feel safer. "I was worried that you wouldn't wake up again, you were under there for a long time. How do you feel?" He spoke calmly and evenly, careful not to seem threatening. He found it hard to believe that she could be afraid of him, especially since he was definitely younger than her.

She seemed to calm down somewhat, starting to trust him a bit. Her mouth kept opening and closing, much like a fish underwater he noted, and she finally forced out words. "Who…who are you?" she asked.

He smiled gently at her. "My name is Dyxan, what's yours?"

She smiled hesitantly back. "Kira."

_To be continued…_

* * *

Right, so I'm leaving it off there, hoping that someone will think this to be intriguing enough to perhaps…leave me a tiny review? So I can write more and perhaps finish the story? Please? 


	2. The Nature of Poison

Chapter number two, GO!

Disclaimer(are these necessary for every chapter?): I don't own The Elder Scrolls IV: Oblivion, Bethesda Softwork does.

* * *

**Failed Prophecy**

**Chapter 2 **

* * *

"So, you are a prisoner?" he asked. Kira looked at him surprised, caught off guard by the question. They had been sitting there for some time, no words exchanged after the initial naming round. While Dyxan could appreciate peace and quiet, it was impossible for him not to be curious about her.

"What do you mean?" she asked in return, her voice cracking several times, meaning her voice hadn't been used in a while.

"Your wrist bands, they're not exactly the kind one wears to look pretty, right?" He couldn't resist the quip.

"No, they're not…" she trailed off.

Silence enveloped them again, only interrupted by the birds singing, the gentle laps of water against the shore and the crackling fire that was now drying Dyxan's cloak and Kira's leather armour. The bandit across the lake at the Ayleid ruins still hadn't awoken, which was probably for the best so he couldn't see the smoke from their own fire. If the bandits found out about them being there…still, he worried about how hard he actually had hit the drunken man. '_Hope I didn't kill him…'_

"So what were you in there for? Don't bother answering that if it's personal, I'm just a bit curious…"

Kira looked sad all of a sudden. "I…can't remember."

Dyxan's eyes flew open. "You can't remember why you were imprisoned? How can that be?" Dyxan had always thought that prison was for regretting and repenting for doing things against the law. If the prisoner couldn't remember what they had done, then what was the purpose of being down there apart from causing emotional and physical pain?

She drew her knees to her chest and rested her head on top of them. "I don't know…I've been there for so long…could hardly remember my name…had to get out…" Her voice sounded tired, and her eyes kept closing and opening like she was about to fall to sleep. She also kept scratching at her back close to her shoulder blades.

"Are you alright?" asked Dyxan, growing worried. "You seem to be a little…tired." What he really wanted to say was "Are you drugged?", but he had a suspicion that it would make her angry.

"I'm fine, just exhausted, and my back itches."

"Want me to take a look? At the back, I mean. Maybe there's some kind of bug bite." '_Or worse…_'

She looked to be discussing it with herself, then nodded and turned so her back was facing him. He slowly rolled up her shirt, mindful of her wounds, until he came to the area she was scratching. He groaned. An arrowhead, missing its shaft, was embedded in her shoulder, not far enough to be deadly, but the skin around the wound had a sickeningly green hue. '_Damn goblins…_'

"You've been hit by a poisoned arrow, Kira, and the arrowhead is still there. Hold still while I remove it, okay?"

"What? How is that possible? I can't feel anything," she said, panicking slightly.

"That's just it," replied Dyxan and poked the wounded skin. "The poison has sedated your shoulder. I'm not claiming to be an expert or adept at poisons and their effects, but this isn't any normal poison that goblins could have made. Either they have stolen it, or someone really wanted to get rid of you."

Kira tried to remember what had happened just hours before. She could recall running around in the tunnels, completely fine with the amulet clutched in her hands, and then suddenly a stinging pain in her back, a flash of red and a maniacal laughter. Then…complete blackout, only remembering the screams and squeals from various animals and parasites living underground. "I don't think it was goblins," she finally said.

Dyxan nodded. "I see." He pulled out a small dagger and slowly started to inch out the arrowhead with it, eliciting small gasps from Kira. "Does it hurt when I do this?" he asked and gave the dagger a small jerk inside the wound. Kira had to bite back a scream. Dyxan immediately apologized. "I just needed to make sure."

"Make sure of what?" asked Kira, still recovering from the sting.

"What kind of poison it is. It seems to be one who's designed to kill slowly by first sedating your body and then inflict massive pain, starting from the source and then slowly spreading out. It also seems to have made you delirious while you were in the tunnels, although that can also be accredited to something else…I'm not sure. Anyway, I don't think this is a poison that will lose its effect over time. You need to see a healer or doctor or something. If only I had my herbs with me," he growled, annoyed with himself for not bringing them along.

"Herbs?" she asked, feeling very tired.

"I'm a ranger, and I like to think of myself as a specialist when it comes to healing herbs and such."

"Do you work alone?"

"Yes, I do. What about it?" He finally managed to dislodge the arrowhead and it fell to the ground with a small ping. He picked it up and looked closer at it. It was green as the grass around them. He pocketed it, knowing it would probably come in handy later if they needed to identify the poison.

"You're so young…" She closed her mouth right after the words had left her mouth, hoping she hadn't offended her rescuer.

Dyxan grunted while he ripped off a piece of his cloak, quickly covering the wounded area with it to prevent at least some infection. "I may be young, but I know the ways of the forest. And for the record, I'm eighteen summers this year, so I am technically an adult."

"I'm sorry…" she said quietly.

Dyxan sighed. "Don't be, I'm just a little sensitive in that area, I shouldn't have barked like that." They sat in silence again. "How old are you anyway, if you don't mind me asking?"

"I think I'm twenty, but I have lost count. I'm not even sure about how long I've been in that place," she said and jerked her head to the imposing prison building.

"That must be horrible. Not knowing how long you've been in there, I mean. I think I would have gone mad after a day."

"Please, I don't want to talk about it," she pleaded.

"Okay, let's not then," Dyxan said. "Anyway, we can't sit here. The poison is running rampant in your veins, and I don't want you to die on me now that I've rescued you. We'll go to the city and seek a heal—"

"No, please, not the Imperial City, I'm a wanted criminal, remember?" She was practically yelling.

"But you need to get that poison out of your veins or you'll die. What should we do then?" Dyxan was getting annoyed now.

"I don't know…" she said and her shoulder slumped. She hissed slightly in pain from the arrow wound. She couldn't go back to the city. Surely they would recognize her and throw her back into that horrible cell, but she didn't want to die either. She squirmed a little and almost jumped in surprise when she felt something hard between her breasts. The she remembered. '_The amulet!_' The events from hours before played all over in her mind. Her lucky escape with the Emperor and his blades, killing several rats and zombies with skills she never knew she had, the Emperor's death and his appeal for her to go to Weynon Priory and seek Jauffre and give the Amulet of Kings to him, to find his heir. Surely the priests there knew how to treat the poison? She turned to Dyxan. "Do you know where Weynon Priory is?" she asked.

"Yeah, I do. It's close to Chorrol, my hideout is on the way there."

She looked suspicious. "Hideout?"

Dyxan laughed at her tone. "Don't worry; it's just a small cottage. I just like to call it my hideout, since I usually just sleep under the stars in the forest somewhere. But enough about that, we really need to get going. That poison is a slow one, but the effects are going to get worse and worse as time goes on." Dyxan stopped talking when he realised they were on an island, and with Kira being tired and possibly falling asleep during the next hour, he had no idea how to get off it. "Can you swim?" he finally asked.

"Of course," answered Kira.

"Then you'll have to get wet again, the only way off this island is to swim across this lake." Dyxan picked up his cloak and found to his satisfaction that it was dry. He turned to Kira. "Let's go then, there's no time to waste."

"Okay."

* * *

Dyxan learned something new while swimming over the lake: Trying to hold your cloak above your head to keep it from getting wet and swimming at the same time proved to be extremely hard. Luckily, he accomplished his goal and his cloak was still dry by the time they had crossed the lake. Clouds had appeared and obscured the sun, and a cold wind had started to blow, resulting in both of them shivering and clicking their teeth. Dyxan gave his cloak to Kira, who accepted with a quiet thanks, without a word and stalked over to the passed out bandit. He made sure that the man was still deep in the oblivion of sleep before he took off his tunic and put it on himself. "If you really want to avoid the guards patrolling the roads, I suggest you put on the hood, it should obscure your face enough," he said to Kira, who did just that.

The trip towards Chorrol and Weynon Priory was a slow affair; Kira had to take several breaks as they went since the poison was starting to affect her motor skills now. Whenever they encountered a horse-mounted guard, Dyxan had to explain that Kira was his sister who just happened to have had a bit too much mead to drink at the local inn. The guards, lazy as they were, never bothered to verify this fact and sent them on their way, leaving Dyxan thankful for Kira's silence. Her voice was too soft and melodious to be human, and how was he going to explain why he claimed an elf to be his sister?

They had just turned on to the road that lead up the hills toward Chorrol when Kira let out a gasp and collapsed to the ground, breathing heavily. Dyxan crouched down. "Kira, Kira, answer me, what's wrong?" Not receiving an answer, he slapped her a few times just to make sure she was still awake. Panicking, he looked around him. They weren't so far from the trail that would lead to his hideout. He made a split-second decision and lifted her very light frame in his arms and started to sprint down the trail. He was not surprised by her very light weight, but he also knew that a starved body was more vulnerable to poison. He ran and ran; almost tripping a few times over a stray tree branch or a stone until he finally reached the small cottage.

He kicked the door open, hoping that no wild animals had made their way inside. He quickly deposited the elf on a small futon that lay in the middle of it and started rummaging around in a bag that lay in the corner. It contained most of the herbs he had gathered during his travels, and it was one of his most prized possessions. Finding what he wanted, a large green leaf with several mean-looking blades and some small black crumbly figs, he went over to a table close to the futon and started to mash everything in a mortar and pestle. After crushing it all, he added water to make it wet, after which he walked quickly over to Kira who was still gasping for breath. He flipped her over so she was lying on her stomach, he rolled up her shirt again to see the arrow wound. He slowly took off the piece of his cloak he'd placed over it and cursed loudly. Red lines were spreading from it, indicating that in addition to being poisoned, an infection had also started. He applied the mixture to the wound, ignoring the whimpering from his companion.

Replacing the make-shift bandage with a real one, he rolled down her shirt again. "Kira," he said. "Listen to me, are you awake?"

A soft, whispered "yes" was heard.

Dyxan smiled softly. "That's good. Kira, I need you to stay awake. I need to go and find one of the healers at Weynon. I promise to be back as soon as I can. Just stay awake, please. There is a cup of water next to your head if you get thirsty. What do you need to do while I'm gone?"

"…stay awake," she answered.

"That's right. I'll be back in less than fifteen minutes, just stay awake." With that said he walked out, closed the door, locked it and ran up the trail to the main road and toward Weynon Priory.

* * *

Kira felt so alone, and the headache that plagued her felt like someone was hitting her head repeatedly with a hammer. "Please hurry back…" she whispered.

"Why would he? Are you trying to drag someone down again, Kira?" asked an unknown voice.

Kira gasped and tried to life her head to look around the cottage, but had to lay down again when the headache worsened tenfold. "Who are you?" she forced out through gritted teeth.

"I'm someone who knows you, Kira. Ever since you were born you have been a walking maelstrom of despair. Why is that?" the voice asked. It was masculine to point of demonic, and the owner spoke with an air of joy.

"What…are you talking about?" She gasped as her lungs contracted against her will.

"You know exactly what I am talking about, don't lie. Do you not remember what we used to do? The many who trembled in our presence?"

The headache intensified again and Kira screamed. The door burst open and Dyxan flew inside, closely followed by a man in robes carrying a large, curved sword. Dyxan brandished his dagger and looked wildly around the room. "What's going on?" he asked.

The robed man shook his head sheathed his sword in its scabbard on his back. "She must be hallucinating. Hurry up and help me." He dug in a bag he had slung around his shoulder and pulled out several bottles filled with liquids of various colours. "Mix these together with these crushed plants and make her drink it. It will halt the poison. I need to make the antidote," he said and mixing several ingredients together after checking the wound on her back.

"Got it," said Dyxan and went to work immediately. A scream from Kira almost made him drop one of the bottles. After a few seconds of mixing and crushing, he finally had the potion ready. He went over to Kira and raised her lips to the pestle. "Drink it Kira, it will ease the pain." She complied and gagged a little on the foul-tasting concoction. "When is the antidote ready?" asked Dyxan, seeing that Kira's face had adopted the very same green colour her wound had a few hours earlier.

"In a few minutes," said the robed man.

Kira's clenched jaw relaxed for a bit after a few minutes after drinking the mix. It felt like an eternity passed by before the robed man finally came over and held a bowl to Kira's lips. "Drink up, child," he said. "This will cure you." The potion went down without as much as a complaint from Kira, and the pain disappeared. "There," said the robed man. "It should only be a matter of time now."

Kira's vision swam in water, and she could feel herself slowly falling to sleep. The last words she heard came from Dyxan.

"Thank you, Jauffre."

_To be continued…_

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Right, so I made another chapter. Read and review, please! 


	3. Travelling

Thanks for the reviews, Onasaki and fallenbloodykillerangel(sp?), you guys rawk.

Disclaimer: I do not own Elder Scrolls IV: Oblivion, Bethesda Softworks does. Kira and Dyxan, on the other hand, are my own creations.

* * *

**Failed Prophecy**

**Chapter 3**

* * *

She could neither hear nor see anything. She felt like she was floating in water, but not getting wet. She did back flips, pirouettes and every kind of imaginable acrobatic feats. All was well, and nothing could ever end it.

_Did you really think disappearing into the void would stop me? Your intelligence must have suffered these last few years, is that so, Kira?_

_**Who…what?**_

_And there you go playing stupid again. I suppose your little holiday in the prison has made you forgetful. Shall I remedy that? Do you want me to?_

…_**what are you talking about?**_

_Well, since you so obviously want to anger me, I will make you remember, and trust me, it will not be pleasant. In this realm I have much greater control. But not now, you seem to be waking up. Fear falling asleep, Kira, for I shall wait for you…_

A shrieking noise almost blew out her ear drums, and then she was awake.

* * *

"Kira? Can you hear me? Answer me!" Dyxan was shaking her, a worried expression on her face.

She groaned. "What…happened?"

A wide smile splayed itself across Dyxan's mouth. "You _are_ awake. Thank Si-"

The robed man interrupted Dyxan as he walked in, smiling just as widely. "I see she's awake. That is fortunate, for I have much to ask of you, especially about how you came into possession of this," he said and pulled out a pendant. A large red stone set in an elongated rectangular piece with a thick chain. Several smaller jewel stones were seated in the frame.

Dyxan's eyes widened during the fraction of a second, and then his face set in a confused expression. "What is that, Jauffre?"

Jauffre glanced at Dyxan and then back to Kira. "This, boy, is the Amulet of Kings, the very source of the Emperor's power, passed down by Reman I himself. It is a sacred artefact, and only his direct descendants can wear it. Uriel Septim died some four days ago, and it was not on his person when The Blades recovered his body. Tell me, girl, were you somehow involved in his murder?"

Kira looked surprised. "Four days? Has it been four days already?"

Jauffre looked angry at the question and opened his mouth, but Dyxan interrupted him,

"You've been asleep, the poison has really taken its toll on your body, and the fact that you probably haven't eaten well for months or years even contributed to its effects."

"Enough of this, tell me where, when and how you got the Amulet," Jauffre said angrily. "Have you stolen this off the Emperor's body?"

"He gave it to me," shouted Kira.

Silence pervaded the room. Kira noticed they weren't in Dyxan's hideout anymore. Instead they were in a large house. There were two additional beds next to the one she was lying in, and she could see a staircase close by.

"What do you mean, 'gave it to you'?" asked Jauffre, suspecting that Kira was lying. "I doubt the Emperor would just give the Amulet to someone, especially you."

Kira took a deep breath and began her explanation. She told them about how she had woken up to the sound of someone shouting at her to get up against the wall and that they wouldn't hesitate to kill her. An old man with the finest clothing she had ever seen had walked in. He had looked surprised when he saw her and told her he had seen her in his dreams. He introduced himself as Uriel Septim, Emperor of Cyrodiil. Then his guards escorted him down the passage and she had followed. They locked a door behind themselves, leaving her alone in a large room filled with the bodies of would-be assassins. A wall had collapsed and rats attacked her, but she managed to defeat and kill them with a fallen Blade's sword. She had gone through great lengths of tunnel until she finally managed to link back up with Septim and his guards. After some time following them and carrying a torch, they had been caught in an ambush, and Septim had fallen, but not before giving her the Amulet and telling her to find his son, the last member of the Septim line.

Jauffre took a deep breath and a sombre look displayed on his face. "So, he told you to find me, did he?" Kira nodded. "Well, I suppose what you're telling me is true, since I am one of the few people who know of his son."

Dyxan coughed. Jauffre and Kira looked at him. "Er…with all due respect, Jauffre, but I heard that the Emperor's sons have been assassinated as well. He only had three sons, didn't he?"

"No, he had four. The fourth is not…legitimate. I will not go into the events leading to his birth, but he has a claim to the throne, and he is our last hope. The Dragonfires have gone out, and soon Oblivion will be upon us."

The room's other two occupants could feel chills in their very bones at the way Jauffre had said it. "Aren't you exaggerating a little now, Jauffre?" asked Dyxan, a nervous grin on his face. He never could keep a straight face in situations like these.

"No," replied Jauffre. "When Reman I founded the Second Empire, the agreement he had with the gods was that as long as his bloodline was uninterrupted, Tamriel would be left in peace from Mehrune's Dagon and the other Daedric Princes."

"But, if the illegitimate son of Uriel Septim really is his, then the line hasn't been interrupted. Why would they attack now?" asked Kira, shocked by what she was hearing.

"Yes, the line is not broken, _yet_, but there is still the matter of lighting the Dragonfires. That is what signifies that the old emperor has passed on and a new one has taken his place. This can only be done by a direct descent in the Septim bloodline." Jauffre was looking at them both with interested eyes.

"Do you know where he is?" asked Dyxan, not liking the way he was looking at them.

"I do." Jauffre smiled. "And I'm sending you to get him."

Two jaws dropped, one of them making a cracking sound. Dyxan rubbed his jaw, angered by both the pain and the _order_ they'd just received. "And under what authority is that?" he asked. He _abhorred_ taking orders from anyone, that's why he worked alone.

"I'm asking, no, ordering you as the Grandmaster of the Imperial Blades."

Dyxan tried to say something, but all that came was a jumble of words and curses. There was _no _way he was going to involve himself in these affairs.

"Why us?" asked Kira quietly. She was sitting up now, feeling better than she could ever remember.

"Yeah," agreed Dyxan. "Why can't you send one of your blades or something? Like soldiers, instead of a ranger and an emaciated elf? No offence, Kira," he said quickly and looked at her. She shook her head, indicating that none had been taken.

"Because first of all, most of the blades I have right now have been deployed in the Imperial City to keep the population under control. They did not take too well to their emperor being murdered under their very feet. Second, the other blades are too far away to be of any use. Third, you two are the only ones, including me, who know of this. If I send someone else, they may start spreading news of their quest, and then the assassins will know where the emperor's son is. That is why." Jauffre's jaw tightened, not liking how the two weren't springing up to do their duty.

Dyxan tried to protest again, but couldn't find anything to argue with. He knew there was only one thing to do, but he couldn't bring himself to say it. He looked pleadingly at Kira, who, after a short time of thinking, looked at Jauffre. "We will do it."

"Not that we had much choice," muttered Dyxan.

* * *

"Can't she at least get a decent night's rest first?" asked Dyxan as two horses were outfitted with supplies and overnight gear. Kira still looked weak, even after drinking several rejuvenating potions and being on the receiving end of many healing spells from the other priests. The house they were in had turned out to be the main building of Weynon Priory, where Jauffre worked undercover.

"I'm afraid not," said Jauffre. He was carrying some better leather armour. "You have to fetch Martin as quick as possible. He's in Kvatch, and that is some days' travel from here. Here, my dear, these will protect you better than those rotting pieces," he said and gave the armour to Kira. Jauffre had warmed considerably to Kira now that it was clear that she had acted under the Emperor's orders.

"Is Martin his name?" she asked when the armour was placed in her arms.

"Indeed," answered Jauffre. "He is a priest in the local chapel. He shouldn't be too hard to track down, he is a gentle man."

Kira nodded and disappeared into the main building to change. Jauffre walked over to Dyxan who was checking his dagger to see if it needed sharpening. "That won't do at all if you expect to meet opposition on the way," said Jauffre.

Dyxan looked up. "It's the only thing I have besides my bow, which I left in my cottage."

"Take this then," said Jauffre and pulled out a curved sword from inside his robe. "It will serve you more efficiently than that dagger, I'm sure. This was my first Akaviri Katana from when I first joined The Blades, and I have taken very good care of it. I expect it back in perfect condition."

Dyxan looked stunned. He pulled the sword from its scabbard. It was finely detailed and balanced perfectly. He looked suddenly at Jauffre with suspicious eyes. "Why are you giving me this? How do you know I can even use it?"

Jauffre smiled gently. "Because I saw your stance when we heard Kira scream a couple of days ago. It was more suited for a swordsman than one using daggers." He leaned close to Dyxan's ear and whispered. "And if I'm not mistaken, you are not self-taught either, am I correct?"

If Dyxan was going to say anything, he would have been interrupted anyway by Kira walking out of the priory building, proudly wearing her new leather armour. It looked too big on her small frame, but when she started eating and gaining weight she would fill it out nicely. She looked at them, and then to what Dyxan was holding. "He gave you a sword?" she asked.

"Yes," answered Dyxan, not knowing what else to say.

"I have something for you as well, Kira," said Jauffre and pulled out a short sword with a silver scabbard. "This used to belong to someone I knew a long time ago. I'd like it back when you return with Martin."

Kira accepted it with big eyes. Days ago she had been a prisoner of the Empire, not worth a coin to anyone, and now she was given new armour and silver weaponry? "Thank you," she said.

"You're welcome. Now, I really think you should be off now, Martin won't come here by himself, you know. Good luck." He turned and walked inside the building, leaving Kira and Dyxan alone in front of the large house.

Kira looked to Dyxan. "How can he be sure that we know where Kvatch is?"

Dyxan shrugged. "I guess he expects one of us to know. I'm a ranger and have travelled a lot and you…well, not too sure about that. Are you sure you can't remember anything?" he asked and lifted himself into the saddle of his black steed.

Kira mirrored his movements on her brown and white. "I can't remember much, only snippets and small flashes, but I remember more of them as time goes by. Maybe I will remember more by the time we reach Kvatch."

"I guess," agreed Dyxan. He kicked his heels into his horse's sides and tore down the road, followed closely by Kira.

Kira couldn't stop thinking about the voice that had haunted her dreams. It sounded familiar, like she should have known who it belonged to, but at the same time, it was completely foreign to her. And the way it had said it would "remedy" her memory loss…she shuddered.

They rode for an hour until Dyxan signalled to stop by an inn. Dyxan led his horse to the small stable which was luckily empty, because it didn't look to have room for more than two horses. When he came out he looked surprised that Kira still sat in her saddle. "Why haven't you gotten off?" he asked.

"Why have we stopped?" she countered.

"Because no matter how important this 'heir' is, I still think it's more important for you to have a full night's sleep before embarking on this journey." He started leading Kira's horse, with her still in the saddle, over to the stable.

"I feel fine," she said.

"I don't care how you think you feel. You're recovering from a near-fatal poisoning. Your body needs rest," he said in a commanding voice. Kira didn't want to argue, especially since she _did_ feel a bit tired.

"Fine."

* * *

The inn was a quiet one, no rowdy guests at all, and it was cheap enough. The room was a bit small, but two could rather comfortably in there, separate beds and all. Kira was sleeping in their room, having felt completely exhausted when they entered the inn. Dyxan was not that tired and sat downstairs and drank some grape juice, not liking the taste of alcohol. He was pondering on what Jauffre had told him while Kira had recovered from the poisoning during the four days at Weynon Priory.

* * *

"_Kira is not of one of the four Elven races," Jauffre had said out of nowhere while they sat and watched her, ready to spring into action in case her condition worsened._

"_She's not?"_ _Dyxan asked_. "_I had a suspicion, but I wasn't sure. What _is _she?"_

"_I'm not too sure myself, but she bears a strong resemblance to Ayleids."_

* * *

Jauffre hadn't brought up the subject again after that, and Dyxan didn't try to either. He just wanted Kira to be safe. He picked up his goblet and finished the last of the juice. He threw a septim onto the countertop and walked outside, needing a bit of fresh air before going to bed himself. It was dark. Summer nights in Cyrodiil had never been particularly bright, but this one seemed extraordinarily dark. The sky had a red tint to it as well, something Dyxan had never seen before. He walked around to the backside of the inn and sat down on the bench there. From where he say he could see the entire Lake Rumare, the almost completely obscured moon giving it an eerie atmosphere.

He sat there for a while, just enjoying the quiet and was about to go inside when some rustling in the bushes caught his attention. He looked closely and could see two shining, reptilian eyes in them. He sighed. "You know, for being an Argonian, your skills at concealing yourself is severely lacking, O."

The Argonian chuckled and heaved herself over the fence, walked silent as the night over to him and sat down on the bench. "He is curious about you, you know," she said.

Dyxan looked at her. "A very strange moment for that, I'm sure. I assume you've been spying on me for some time now?"

"Since you came running to Weynon Priory, to be exact," she answered.

"Why?"

"Well, it's not everyday one can see you running like Mehrunes Dagon himself is after you. Besides, he thought it to be a good time to check up on you. It may not seem like it, but this is a coincidence."

"Yeah right," scoffed Dyxan.

They sat in silence for several minutes.

"He's coming to see you," O suddenly said.

"What?" asked Dyxan, a bit loudly. "Why?"

"As I said, he is curious, and you're hardly in the position to deny him."

He sank down, defeated. "When?"

"He didn't say, only that it was going to be soon." She looked around. "I must be off. I will see you soon, and so will he." She got up and vaulted over the fence. She turned around to look at him one final time. "Be careful around him, Dyxan."

"I will, O," he answered, smiling slightly.

"Walk forever in the Night Mother's shadow," she said and disappeared down the road.

"Yeah," whispered Dyxan. "You too."

_To be continued…_

* * *

Is it getting exciting? Or am I just making a fool out of myself?

Thanks for your reviews, you've given me inspiration to write more!


	4. Daedra and Counts

Disclaimer: I do not own The Elder Scrolls IV: Oblivion, Bethesda Softworks does.

* * *

**Failed Prophecy**

**Chapter 4**

* * *

_Did I not tell you it would be dangerous to fall asleep again, Kira? You have grown foolish; you would never have done such a thing when we travelled together._

_**I didn't have much of a choice…**_

_Hah, are you taking orders from someone else now? You belong to _me_, Kira, and no one else. I think I will have to punish you now. Shall I?_

_**Please don't…**_

_Pleading, are you? It seems your personality has faltered, leaving behind a pathetic shell of an elf with no bravery…so different from before…_

_**Who are you?**_

_I should not have to tell you that, Kira, we have been together for most of your life, after all._

_**I don't know who you are, tell me now!**_

_Shouting, are we? I do not think it will be very funny to torment you, you are so pathetic. I will leave the pain off for now, but I will give you a warning: Do not trust the human you are travelling with, Kira, he is not who he seems._

_**Dyxan?**_

_**Hello?**_

_**Are you there?**_

Something flashed before her eyes, and before she knew what happened, darkness enveloped her, and she fell into a resting sleep.

* * *

The horses' hooves clip-clopped on the road, producing a vaguely rhythmic sound, and Dyxan could hardly keep his eyes up. He had stayed up most of the night, contemplating on the information O had given him.

'_Why does he want to see me now, of all times? It's been two years since last time, I was sure he'd forgotten about me._'

He looked behind himself, where Kira were riding close. Her face wasn't so pale anymore, and she looked quite rested. In the light from the summer sun she looked much like a normal Altmer riding. But something about her was off, and what Jauffre had said very much puzzled him. The Ayleids were extinct, weren't they? As far as he knew, they were, and having one randomly showing up while he stole food from bandits was…suspicious.

Kira smiled at him, a small laugh coming from her mouth. It must have been ages since she had ridden last, if at all. He smiled back and turned around to watch the road in front of them. They had turned onto the main road that led away from Lake Rumare and toward Kvatch, where Martin was waiting. He hoped the priest wouldn't be too shocked when they told him what he really was.

Hours passed by as they rode, the sun setting in the hills around them and bathing the landscape in orange light. The red tint was still present, Dyxan noted, and it worried him. Anything that dealt with the colour red meant trouble, so he had been taught. He hoped it wasn't linked to them.

Night fell, and the two companions were starting to feel tired, especially Kira who was still recovering. They found a small meadow with a stream and decided to camp there for the night. Dyxan, who had remembered to stop by his cottage and collect his bow and arrows, went to hunt for dinner while Kira started a fire. The "food" that Jauffre and his priests had packed in their saddle bags wasn't exactly the best on Nirn, and Dyxan decided to bring something better.

Kira knocked the two pieces of flint together to create sparks so she could light the damn fire and be done with it, but the pieces of bark refused to catch them. She continued doing this for several minutes, growing more and more frustrated. Finally she gave up threw the flint behind her and pointed to the fire angrily. "You've just made yourself an enemy," she growled. Suddenly, a small ball of flame erupted from her finger and struck the small fire pit, making a small booming noise and there was a roaring fire where it had struck. She looked shocked from the fire to her hand and then back to the fire. '_What just happened?_' she thought.

"Ah, you've made the fire, excellent," said Dyxan triumphantly as he walked out from among the trees with a deer carcass over his shoulders. He saw her expression and immediately felt worried. "What's wrong?"

Kira shook her head and plastered on a smile. "Nothing, I'm just tired, and you scared me when you started talking out of nowhere."

Dyxan smiled apologetically. "Sorry, it's been a while since I've interacted with other people, I forget what gives them a scare."

"Don't worry about it, I just feel a bit strange."

Dyxan dumped the dead deer close by and picked up his dagger, intending to make them dinner. "Don't go to sleep just yet, I've hunted this beautiful animal, and it wouldn't appreciate if we didn't eat it. Besides, that stuff Jauffre gave us can hardly be called food."

"I guess you're right," she said and stared into the fire.

Dyxan went to work, but not without noticing her vacant expression. He made the first cut, preparing to skin the deer. "Is something bothering you?" he asked, not looking up from the body.

"What?"

"You seem to zone off whenever we're not talking. What's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong, Dyxan, I'm just thinking about everything that's happened in the last few days. Being a prisoner in one moment and poisoned in the next. Being rescued by you, almost killed by the poison, waking up at Weynon Priory and then sent off to find Uriel Septim's unknown son…it's so much."

"Yeah, I can see what you mean. And I bet that not knowing exactly who you are isn't helping much either, eh?" Dyxan ripped off all the fur.

Kira made an agreeing noise.

They remained silent while Dyxan finished skinning the deer, and didn't speak again until after they had eaten and that was only the usual "good night" wishes as they lay on their separate bedrolls. They had much to think about, both of them.

For once, Kira's sleep wasn't haunted by the voice, and she slept so deeply that she didn't notice Dyxan getting up and walking into the forest. He was so tired, but couldn't fall asleep. The thought of meeting _him_ again after so much time scared him, which made him feel ashamed. He was an adult now, or soon anyway, his birthday was still a month away, but how much could one mature in four weeks anyway? Dyxan walked until he came to a clearing overlooking a small valley. The red tint was growing stronger for every day, and if he looked close, it looked like the sky was filled with cracks. He clenched his eyes shut, and when looked up again, the cracks were gone. He blamed it on the lack of sleep, which was making itself more and more known as he started to feel sluggish.

He made to turn back and return to their campsite, but a horrid squeal filled the night, and it was coming from the valley. He turned around again and looked closely. Something was shining behind some rocks with the same tint as the sky. Suddenly, a huge fireball erupted from behind the rocks, so bright that Dyxan had to shield his eyes. He grabbed his bow, ready to defend himself if whoever was down there saw him and attacked. He half expected some necromancer or power-drunk mage to walk out from the rocks, but what came instead shocked him.

A strange little creature with large ears and a mouth filled with razor sharp teeth stepped out. Its legs were covered in dark brown fur, but its torso, arms and head were bald. It had a small tail not covered in fur as well. Dyxan recognized the creature, and when more of them followed the first, he ran away, hoping they hadn't spotted him. He swore he could see something green and scaly right before he turned as well. '_Scamps. What could Deadra be doing here? Does it have something to do with the Dragonfires?_'

* * *

"Kira, wake up, we have to go." Dyxan shook the elf until she made a groaning noise and cracked up one eye.

"What's happenun'?" she asked, sleep masking her words.

"There are Daedra in the forest. It's not safe here. Pack your gear, they're coming," Dyxan said and immediately started putting out the fire and rolling up his bedroll. Kira did the same, albeit a little slower.

"Daedra?" she asked.

Dyxan nodded. "Scamps, and I think I saw a Clannfear as well. Not sure, but Scamps alone are dangerous enough. Hurry up," he gestured wildly as he put the bedroll in the horse's pack. The horses were also growing uneasy, and they snorted and dug at the ground with their hooves repeatedly, indicating they too wanted to get away.

Some minutes passed by, and noises from gabbling Scamps could be heard now. Kira finally managed to get everything of hers away with the help of Dyxan, and they were off.

They rode on through the night and eventually approached the city gates of Skingrad, the last city before Kvatch. They chose to stop within the protective stone and hired a room at one of the inns. The night passed by uneventful, and Dyxan managed to grab a few hours of sleep.

They had just bought supplies and were preparing to move on to Kvatch at the gates when an armoured Imperial soldier rode hard in and stopped next to one of the gate guards. "I must speak with the Count Hassildor immediately," he all but shouted.

The guards took one look at him while he chewed on a straw. "And why is that?" he finally asked.

"There are Daedra roaming the countryside, he must send soldiers and wipe out the damn things immediately, or else the same thing that's happened to Kvatch will happen here." The soldier looked panicked.

"There aren't any Daedra around here, you're just trying to start a riot, aren't you?" asked the guard, his rotting teeth displayed in a disgusting grin.

"I'm telling the truth, why would I lie?" asked the soldier, distraught.

"To get an audience with the Count, of course," smiled the guard.

Dyxan felt it appropriate and speak up at this moment, and a nod from Kira sent him along. "Excuse me, sir, but he's telling the truth, I saw Daedra in the forest last night, and they were coming in this direction."

"Why should I trust a ki—"began the guard, but the armoured fist of the soldier stopped him and sent him to the ground in a heap. He tried to get up, but the tip of the guard's steel sword stopped him.

"Don't try it, I demand to see the Count as an Imperial Legion Officer with urgent news, and you will not stand in my way," he said coldly and strode over the guard. The other guard did not attempt to stop him, and the soldier stopped next to Dyxan and Kira. "I need you to come with me, boy, as a witness." Dyxan nodded and followed, giving Kira a smile.

"I'll be right back."

She nodded.

* * *

"What did you mean with 'what happened to Kvatch'?" asked Dyxan while they walked over the bridge to Skingrad Castle.

The soldier gave him a surprised look. "You haven't heard? I thought the whole city would be talking about it now."

"Well, we arrived just last night, and we were too tired to do anything but sleep, and we must be off pretty soon."

"Where are you going?"

"To Kvatch."

The soldier stopped dead in his tracks. "Don't," he said and gave Dyxan a hard look.

"Why not?" asked Dyxan, surprised at the soldier's tone.

"Kvatch is under siege, by Daedra."

"What?"

"You heard me. A few days ago, a large gate appeared outside the city walls and knocked down the gate and Daedra of any shape and form poured in, killing everyone who got in their way. A few people managed to get out, but there are still some inside. I'm hoping that someone will send soldier to relieve those who are already there, they're exhausted by the constant fighting."

Dyxan felt like someone had punched him in the stomach. "What about the chapel?"

"Razed to the ground, I heard. Why is it so important to go there, anyway?" the soldier asked.

"My…my father lives there, I need to know he's okay."

The soldier looked at him with sympathetic eyes. "I see. Well, I'm not going to stop you, but I don't advice you to do it. Well, let's go, we still need to tell the Count what we've seen."

Dyxan and the soldier walked inside the castle.

* * *

It turned out that the Count didn't have any live audiences, but messages were given to his steward who relayed them to the Count. It puzzled both Dyxan and the soldier, but they told the steward what they had seen and were sent on their way. They had talked for a bit while they walked from the castle and back to the main street. They had introduced themselves and the soldier was known as Orin. Dyxan like the man, he was stern and permitted no nonsense, but had a joking side as well.

They approached the part of the street that branched off to the gates, but Orin stopped at a tavern, intending to get a drink before heading back to report to the Council of Elders. "Is there no way I can persuade you not to go to Kvatch, Dyxan?" he asked.

"I'm afraid not, I need to see my father, and nothing will get in my way. I'll be seeing you, Orin," he said and walked to the gates where Kira was waiting.

"Good luck," Orin after him and walked inside, ordering a huge mug of mead when he approached the counter.

* * *

"How did it go?" asked Kira while they walked out the massive oak doors of Skingrad.

"Well, we didn't get to see the Count; the steward took the report instead. It's strange, isn't it, that the ruler of a town won't see messengers who bear news of its impending attack?"

"What about Kvatch?" she asked.

"Under siege." Dyxan sighed. "Apparently by Daedra. Orin told me that the chapel has been destroyed, which makes Martin's survival all the more doubtful."

"What can we do? We can't fight Daedra," said Kira, her mood dropping by the second.

"We'll ask when we get there if Martin is alive, if he's not, we'll go back to Weynon and inform Jauffre. After that, we're free, I guess. If he's alive, we'll take him with us."

"What if he's still inside the city?"

"That…could be a problem," Dyxan said.

* * *

The rest of the trip was uneventful, and by nightfall they had reached the foot of the small mountain Kvatch was built on. Climbing the trail proved perilous, for falling rocks kept rolling down the road. It got so bad they had to leave their horses safely under an outcropping and continue on foot. They only took their weapons with them.

After about fifteen minutes of walking and dodging, they reached an even plateau where several tents were pitched up. There were wounded people everywhere, and healers scrambled to get to them all. In a corner under some trees lay several bodies covered in sheets. Kira felt sick when she saw them, and Dyxan didn't look much better off.

They questioned several people, some of which gave them strange looks. Why would they be looking for one specific priest? Eventually, they found someone who told them that they had seen him last helping survivors out of the collapsed church.

"Looks like there is only way," said Dyxan, "and that's up."

They continued climbing and reached the top. The red in the sky had intensified, and lighting filled the sky along with thunder so severe that the ground almost cracked under their feet. Blood covered the ground, and as they approached what looked like an outpost for the soldiers, they could see how bad things really were.

In front of the city gates loomed a gigantic portal, fiery and fierce. Bodies littered the ground in front of and around it, both human and Daedra. Deadra poured forth from the gate, and the soldiers attacking it looked to be on the losing side.

Kira and Dyxan looked at each other, and then Dyxan spoke.

"I think we're in way over our heads."

Kira agreed.

_To be continued…_

* * *

Thanks for the review, Fbka! 


	5. Kvatch Pt 1

Disclaimer: I don't own ESIV: Oblivion, Bethesda Softworks does. Kira and Dyxan, on the other hand, are mine.

* * *

**Failed Prophecy**

**Chapter 5 **

* * *

To say that Savlian Matius was stressed would be the understatement of the century, perhaps even millennium. On one side there was the attack on Kvatch which he was responsible for breaking, and on the other side there was the fact that he had a much too small force to be able to mount a successful attack. Defending the front was hard enough, but now practically all of his soldiers had an injury of some sort, and the group he sent into the gate had not returned. "What am I going to do?" he growled, mostly to himself, but the soldier standing next to him backed away a little. He looked around. He had nineteen men, all standing behind a spiked fence, facing the gate. '_Should I risk it?_' There hadn't been any additional Daedra for some hours, maybe they had run out.

His train of thought was interrupted when two people, a human and a…elf of some kind came running up to them.

"Are you the one in charge?" asked the human. He didn't look to be over seventeen summers, but he carried a blade that Savlian knew was unobtainable for common folk. He wore tattered forest green cloak, and underneath he could spot thick leather armour. The elf wore the same leather armour, and a sword, silver if he judged it right by the handle, on her side. She looked young, but one could never really guess right when it came to the age of an elf. Her blonde hair was tied into a long ponytail that was tucked into the neck of the armour.

"Yes, I am," he answered. "What's it to you?"

"I need to know whether Martin the Priest is alive or not," said the human.

Savlian scratched his chin. He had seen the chapel tower topple to the ground, but he didn't know if the rest of the building had followed suit. "I'm not sure, but if he is, then he's still inside. I'd go check, but…" he trailed off and gestured to the gigantic fiery gate that stood in the way of the city.

The two looked at each other and the elf shrugged. The human turned to Savlian. "What can we do to help?" he asked.

Savlian had to keep his laughter in. "Not much, I'm afraid, unless you've got a force of a hundred strong behind you."

The boy scowled. "We may not have an army, but we're both capable fighters, and we're willing to risk our lives." Truth to be told, Dyxan didn't know if even _he_ was capable to fight Daedra.

Savlian didn't know what to do. He could use two extra swords, but civilians? For all he knew, the boy could be lying… although, with the two extra people he might just have enough to get rid of the gate and retake Kvatch… He looked from the two standing before him to his men, to the gate and back to the two. "Alright, I need two extra swords anyway. We're going inside, and it's doubtful that many of us will return. The city must be retaken, and that's my job. Still want to help?" They nodded. "Very well, get yourself some equipment from the pile," he said and pointed to a large cache of weapons and armour taken from the dead soldiers. "And then get in line. On my signal we will rush the gate and go through. I'm not sure what we'll find on the other side, but it can't be much worse than this."

A huge booming thunder clapped overhead as Dyxan and Kira took whatever they thought they would need. Dyxan grabbed a suit of chain mail and put it on. He winced at the weight and had to struggle to keep standing on his legs. He also exchanged his wooden bow with one tipped with steel, and grabbed a quiver filled with steel arrows. He did not grab a shield as he was not comfortable with using one.

Kira also tried to wear the chain mail, but collapsed under the weight and Dyxan had to help her take it off. She did, however, grab a bow and a quiver and a dagger.

They assembled along with the other soldiers, and Savlian stood in front of them. "Ready?" he asked. They gave their confirmations. "That's good; I hope you know what you're getting yourselves into." He made to walk away, but suddenly turned back to them. "What are your names, by the way?" He looked sheepish.

"I'm Dyxan," said the black-haired teen.

"And I'm Kira," said the elf.

Savlian shook both their hands. "I'm Savlian Matius, captain of the Kvatch Guard. Good luck, and stay close to the others." He walked in front of all of the soldiers, drew his sword and roared. "For Kvatch!"

The other soldiers mirrored his actions and rushed out from behind the fence, Dyxan and Kira along with them. A lone scamp emerged from the gate, but was crushed underneath the onslaught of the soldiers.

They hurled themselves through the gate one by one, Dyxan and Kira being the last. The sudden sensation of being pulled by a hook around their necks surprised them, and before they knew it, they were laying on their backs on top of several soldiers grumbling for them to get off. Once they had gotten up they got a good look at the gate's destination, The Plane of Oblivion, Hell, and the realm of Mehrunes Dagon and the other Daedric Princes. Red lightning streaked across the sky, rivers of magma running close to their feet and creatures of unimaginable horror roaming the hills. A huge tower loomed in the distance, a sharp glow shining from the top. Several charred and cut up bodies were piled together close by, the remnants of the last party Savlian had sent in.

Savlian took a quick look around, grimaced, spat on the ground and turned to the group of soldiers. "Men, remember what we're here for. We're going to close this gate, even if it costs us our lives, do not take unnecessary risks. Especially you two," he said and pointed to Dyxan and Kira. Dyxan made a face, angry at being treated like a recruit when he wasn't even part of the guard. Kira felt indifferent, she was too focused on the horrors around her.

One soldier was shaking, frightened by what he saw. Savlian tried to talk to him. The soldier ignored him, prompting Savlian to slap him. That caught his attention, and he quickly composed himself, reminding himself of what he was doing.

Seeing that his men were now ready, Savlian lifted his sword. "Move out men, and remember, no surrender until Kvatch is liberated." The response was overwhelming, and soon they were on their way, marching quickly toward the tower.

Minutes passed by, and the tower was approaching fast. This particular area of Oblivion seemed to be an island surrounded by lava, and it seemed as if they had run out of troops to hurl through the gate, which worked to their advantage as a force of nineteen men plus two adventurers would be far too feeble if faced with the armies of Mehrunes Dagon.

They soon came to a bridge blocked by a pair of huge gates with no exterior way of opening them in sight. A soldier wearing the white armour of Kvatch was fighting a scamp at the foot of the bridge, bodies of both humans and Daedra surrounding him. The soldier seemed tired, and his side was bleeding heavily.

One of the soldiers in Savlian's group made to run to the soldier's aid, but suddenly a huge roar was heard and the massive gates on the bridge opened, revealing a large group of scamps and Dremora warriors, all rushing towards the soldier. Savlian roared. "Charge!"

The two groups clashed in a big melee brawl, no conceivable lines could be seen. Dyxan and Kira found themselves smack in the middle, not able to get out on the flanks. Dyxan drew his Akaviri katana and ran to the soldier who was already there. He was losing the fight, and Dyxan intended to help him. Kira followed slightly behind, drawing her bow and preparing an arrow.

The soldier was on his back, feebly holding back blow after blow from the scamp with his shield. He was breathing heavily and coughed up blood, which meant his wounds were serious. He finally dropped his shield and let himself to his fate, hoping his body would not be feasted upon by the creatures. The scamp raised its clawed hand, intending to deliver the finishing blow, and the soldier closed his eyes, preparing for death. When the blow didn't come, he cracked open his eyes. Dyxan had decapitated the scamp, and were standing over the soldier with his hand out, ready to help him up. The soldier was speechless as Dyxan hauled him up.

"I owe you my life," he said. His eyes widened when he saw a dremora break away from the fight, rushing up behind Dyxan. "Look out," he shouted.

Dyxan turned too slow, and his sword did not come up quickly enough to block the strike. The dremora raised his club…and was stopped dead in its tracks when an arrow from Kira's bow pierced its skull. It sank lifeless to the ground, its heavy armour making a huge clanking sound as it skidded across the stone.

Dyxan looked to Kira, whose arm ached from the strain of firing the bow. He flashed her his biggest grin yet, and ran up to her. The wounded soldier followed. The fighting was dying down, the Kvatch soldiers emerging as the winners, although now without losses. "Now I owe you a big one," Dyxan said.

Kira shook her head. "No, you saved my life, and now I saved yours, we're even." She rubbed her arm absently, vowing to build up strength in it.

The wounded soldier coughed to get attention. The pair turned to him. "You two saved my life, and I owe you for that. I will gladly follow you," he said.

Kira looked at his injuries and shook her head. "I don't think that's a very good idea, your wounds are serious, and, no offence, you would just slow us down. You would be a bigger help on the outside of the gate, guarding it from the Daedra that gets by us."

The soldier looked like he would object, but looked at his injuries and then at his gauntlet, which was covered in the blood he'd coughed up. "I guess you're right." He sighed. "Let a few come by, will you? Just because I'm injured doesn't mean I'm useless."

"Sure thing," said Dyxan.

"Soldiers," called Savlian. "We're moving out."

The gates had been left open, the operators surely shocked by the resilience shown by the soldiers of Kvatch, and Savlian intended to waste no time in going through. The injured were sent back and the rest moved on. All in all, five soldiers had been killed and three injured, cutting their numbers down to eleven excluding Savlian, Dyxan and Kira. The group of Daedra had been completely wiped out.

The group went unopposed all the way to the central tower, and the door was unlocked. They entered and found a large circular chamber with a huge fire blazing in the middle. Two dremora guards tried to attack them, but were quickly cut down by the Kvatch soldiers, who were driven by vengeance for their comrades and city. They split up, Kira and Dyxan going with Savlian's group.

Up they went. No stairs were present, only steep inclines. Minimal resistance was met, but several fiendish traps caught soldiers by surprise. Several sharp metal poles shooting out of the wall skewered the soldier right next to Kira, and one of them nicked her arm. She had given up on shooting the bow as it hurt her too much and resorted to the silver sword given to her by Jauffre.

They met up with the other group that had fared no better then them, and their number was now down to five, excluding the two companions. A crumbling bridge over the huge fire claimed another soldier, his screaming voice haunting them as they went through the door leading to the final room, which contained what Savlian judged to be the source of power for the gate. The chamber was large, and a platform hung overhead, held up by gigantic chains. The chamber also housed a large number of dremora warriors and mages. The humans and elf met them in the stairs, which resembled large claws, and several soldiers fell to the maces and swords of the dremora.

Stubbornness was the soldiers' middle names, and in the end they were able to push their way to the top of the chamber, all the way to the platform. Only three remained now, Savlian, Dyxan and Kira, and the dremora showed no signs of stopping. Kira was exhausted, and Dyxan felt like he was going to collapse. It had been a long time since he'd fought like this. Savlian, on the other hand, showed now signs of weariness. He roared and struck down a dremora warrior while simultaneously pushing another over the edge. The dremora screamed, but was silenced when it hit the chamber floor with a reverberating crack.

"Boy, get over here and help me hold these foul beasts back. Girl, the stone, get the stone!" He shouted. Dyxan rushed over and engaged a particularly large dremora warrior. It swung its sword in an overhead strike, which Dyxan blocked. He regretted it immediately. The power of the blow sent shockwaves through his body, and numbed his arm.

Kira turned to the platform, on which a pedestal stood with a perfectly round stone was spinning faster than the eye could see. Not knowing how to remove it, she struck it with her sword. No effect. She tried to grab it, but a groan from Savlian drew her eyes from it. Dyxan and Savlian were losing, not able to hold back the dremora. She saw one slip through their defences and swing his sword at Dyxan's back. Fear struck her, then rage. A rage that filled her very being. Time seemed to slow down as a fire erupted from within and ran through her body to the tips of her fingers. She pointed to the warrior attacking Dyxan, and from her fingers burst forth the largest ball of flame she had ever seen.

She barely managed to shout for the two to get down before the fireball struck the dremora, instantly incinerating it beyond all recognition, but that wasn't all. The fire spread to the other dremora, and soon enough all of them were screaming in agony as the fire melted them all away, leaving Savlian and Dyxan gasping on the floor from the heat. When the fire eventually died away, nothing remained of the demons, only ashes. Kira felt both horrified and triumphant at what she had done. Then, she felt nothing, for she fainted and fell to the floor.

Getting up from the floor, Dyxan ran over to her. "Kira, Kira, get up." He felt for a pulse. It was there. He sighed in relief.

"Is she alright?" asked Savlian.

"Yeah," answered Dyxan. "Just exhausted I think."

"Why didn't she do that before?"

"I didn't even knew she could do magic to begin with."

"Oh. Well, I suggest you pick her up, I don't know what will happen when I take this," Savlian said and went over to the rotating stone. Hesitant, he reached his hands out to take the stone.

Dyxan sheathed Kira's sword back in its scabbard and lifted her up. He didn't like how light she was, and swore that he would make her eat more. "We're ready," he said to Savlian, who nodded and wrapped his fingers around the stone. It stopped spinning at once, and Savlian lifted it from the pedestal. It weighed practically nothing, and he wondered if what he did had any effect at all.

Suddenly, fire erupted form all around them, and the chains holding the platform exploded, sending the platform crashing through the floor, which was revealed to be made of glass. Savlian threw himself to the edge and barely escaped the fall. They huddled close to each other as the flames closed in, threatening with doom and despair. A light enveloped them and blinded them, and the sensation of being thrown with high speed filled them, and then there was darkness.

* * *

Dyxan found himself being flung through the air and landing painfully on his back, Kira on top of him, not that her weight made any real difference. A groan from underneath revealed that he lay on top of Savlian, who he, after putting down Kira carefully, rolled off and apologized to. Savlian waved him off and slowly stood up, hissing with pain from a wound in his calf.

They were both shocked to find themselves being hauled to their feet by several soldiers, all dressed in the brown armour of the Imperial Legion. "We received the report, and we're here to help," one of them, an officer most likely, said.

"Very well," said Savlian, still slightly disoriented from the trip through the gate. "We need to make plans for the assault on the town."

The soldiers marched back to the fence, leaving Dyxan holding Kira standing amidst the bodies of the fallen soldiers from when the battle first started. The wounded soldier they had helped in Oblivion came running up to them. "Is she okay?" he asked.

Dyxan nodded. "Yeah, she's just passed out."

The soldier sighed, apparently relieved. "That's good. Come on, follow me, I know a place where she can rest comfortably."

* * *

"It's no good. There are still Daedra in Kvatch, and we need to get rid of them, we have enough men, let's go right now," said Savlian. One of the soldiers had suggested a sneak attack through the sewers, but that would take hours. No, it was better to just attack head-on and drive the Daedra back, and then slaughter them.

"Very well, we'll follow your orders," replied the commander of the legion forces.

"We'll go in ten minutes. I just need to speak with someone." Savlian walked away from the other officers, his wounds healed by the battle mage they had brought with them. He found Dyxan and the other two quickly enough. Kira was lying on a bedroll close to a pitched up medical tent.

"You saved my life in there, and you may just as well have been the decisive keys in the battle. I would be honoured if you would accompany us into the city to drive the Daedra out once and for all.

Dyxan looked up. "I'd love to, Captain, but my companion…she's unconscious, and I can't just leave her here."

The soldier, whose name was Drei, turned to Dyxan. "What if I take care of her? I owe it to you, and I'm out of commission anyway."

Dyxan looked thoughtful. "Well…"

_To be continued…_

* * *

I'm a bit tired, so I'll leave it off there. I promise to update as soon as I can, but I've got some school stuff to do as well. PS: I know I took a few liberties with the Oblivion gate, but that's all I could think of since I'm basically writing two characters instead of one into the main quest of ESIV. Don't worry, this won't be a novelization, the story will be completely different. 


	6. Kvatch Pt 2

**Disclaimer: I do not own ESIV: Oblivion, Bethesda Softworks does. Kira and Dyxan are mine though…**

* * *

**Failed Prophecy**

**Chapter 6**

* * *

'_Why did I agree to this?_' Dyxan asked himself for what felt like the thousandth time. He was standing in the midst of a throng of soldiers outside the gates of Kvatch. The Daedra had closed it, and several men were chopping their way through the gate with massive axes. The thick oak was very resilient, and it took them the larger part of an hour to eventually get through. After making a hole big enough for maybe two men to walk inside side-by-side, they dropped their axes, drew their swords and rushed in, bellowing battle cries. There were about fourty soldiers, including Dyxan and Savlian. It took some minutes for everyone to get through, but it didn't matter, no enemies waited on the other side. With the gate gone, the red light in the sky had disappeared, leaving the land doused in darkness, the only light coming from the weak moons. A light drizzle had started by the time the chopping had started, and it had now escalated to a full-on downpour.

The men assembled in the main street close to the chapel. Savlian was right, only the tower had fallen, leaving the rest of the holy building intact. "Move out," called Savlian. "To the chapel."

The men moved slowly, wary of their surroundings. Archers had arrows at the ready, pulling the string back just the slightest. A droning sound could be heard, and ground shook, similar to when an army marched to war. And an army it was, of Daedra. They rounded the slight bend in the road and clambered over the rubble of the chapel tower. Scamps, clannfears, dremora, even a flame atronarch. The group was maybe slightly larger in number than the soldiers'. The two units stood still, watching each other silently. Savlian gritted his teeth as he stood next to Dyxan. "This is going to be tough," he said quietly.

"We can handle them, just like we did inside the gate," replied Dyxan, his jaw set like steel. He drew his katana, hoping that jauffre wouldn't mind a few nicks here and there when he gave it back.

Savlian grinned at the youth's enthusiasm. "Hah, you're right, kid. Let's give 'em something to chew on, eh?"

A large bellow from a high-ranking dremora broke the silence, and the Daedra ran toward the soldiers. Savlian gave his own scream in return, and the soldiers mirrored their enemies, rushing like there was no tomorrow.

The two groups clashed, swords and shields bashing together, maces cracking skulls and fire spells burning flesh. Wails from dying creatures and men filled the night. The pooling water was coloured red.

Dyxan had never felt so alive. The skills he thought he had forgotten had come back, resulting in practically a tornado of sharp steel. A dremora swung his mace at him sideways. He dodged and sunk the blade into its abdomen and twisted it, pulled it out and left the lifeless corpse in the mud. A scamp tried to jump on his back and bite his jugular. He grabbed it by the scruff of its neck and threw it to the ground. He raised the katana and jammed it into the creature's chest, eliciting a scream from it. Suddenly, he felt something hard and scaly hit him in the face, his nose making a very unnerving cracking noise. He fell to the ground, holding his nose in agonizing pain. '_Broken…_' he vaguely thought. He blinked the tears away from his eyes, revealing a clannfear standing over him, claws poised to rip his throat out. He tried to raise his sword, but the pain was too much. He resigned himself to his fate. '_Was a stupid idea, anyway…_'

The scaly beast never managed to use its claws. The tip of a sword emerged from its chest, a scowling Savlian standing behind. "Nice try," he growled at the creature before jerking the blade out and decapitating the creature in one graceful strike. He held out a hand to Dyxan, who shakily took it and was pulled to his feet, his nose still throbbing. "You alright?"

"Yeah," Dyxan said and spat out some blood that had pooled in his mouth from the nose. "I think my nose is broken, though…"

Savlian took a close look. "Yup, it is," he laughed. "We'll set it later, we've still got a battle to win," he said and gestured around him. The opposing armies appeared to be evenly matched. Many had fallen on both sides, but the remaining combatants refused to back down.

The only fighter that wasn't struggling was the flame atronarch. It gave a feminine giggle as it lit a soldier on fire. The man screamed and dropped to the ground, trying to put the fire out. It was useless, the atronatch kept the flames burning with magic until the he stopped screaming, leaving behind a charred corpse. Savlian and Dyxan looked at each other for a split-second, nodded and rushed at the flaming creature.

It never saw them coming. It was amusing itself by prodding the body in front of it. Savlian's blade cut deeply into its side while Dyxan skewered it through the heart with his katana. They stood perfectly still, waiting for the atronarch to let out its dying scream and fall to the ground, but it never came. Instead, it opened its mouth and drew in a deep breath. Dyxan, who stood in front of it, acted on pure instinct. He drew his dagger and shoved it up through the atronarch's mouth. Whatever it had intended to do was foiled, and the fire in its eyes went out and the creature fell to the ground, its armoured body making a huge racked when it came in contact with the mud. Dyxan pulled his weapons from the body and sheathed the dagger. "Talk about fiery disposition," he said, knowing how incredibly stupid his joke was, but he needed to say it anyway.

To his surprise, Savlian laughed loudly. When he saw Dyxan's questioning look, he waved him off and engaged another dremora. Dyxan shrugged and did the same.

After five more minutes of intense fighting, the struggle was over, and the humans had once again emerged as the winning side. Bodies were strewn all over the street, and most of the survivors looked worse for the wear. In total, they had lost about twenty men, but the Daedra had been completely wiped out. "Let's just hope that was all of them. I don't want to go on clean-up duty in these buildings." He pointed at a burning building, and, as if to prove his point, it collapsed, embers flying into the air like fireflies.

A voice coming from the chapel alerted them and they turned to the source. A female soldier wearing the Kvatch cuirass stood in the door, her arm in a sling. Her hair was bound tightly to the sides of her head, and she had a relieved look on her face. "We never thought you'd come, Captain," she said to Savlian.

"I'm sorry; we were stalled for a bit. Are you the only survivor?" he asked.

She shook her head. "No, there are some several other soldiers and even more civilians inside."

Savlian nodded and looked at the soldiers under his command. "Men, into the chapel." The soldiers looked relieved to get out of the relentless rain and moved slowly inside. Some had to hobble because of injuries and others held their sides painfully.

Dyxan saw his chance and ran up to the female soldier. "Excuse me," he said. She turned to him with a questioning glance.

"Yes?"

"Is there a priest in there? His name is Martin."

"Martin? Hm, let me go check," she said and went inside with the others.

Savlian noticed that Dyxan didn't go inside and walked up to him. "Aren't you going inside? You'll need to set that nose of yours back."

"I can't. I need to know if Martin the Priest is in there. He is the reason for why I and Kira are here."

"Why would you—"Savlian was interrupted by the female soldier coming out, slightly confused-looking.

"I talked to another of the priests, and he said that Martin left Kvatch with some other priests a day before the siege began. Apparently, they wore red cloaks and were from the Church of Talos."

Dyxan didn't know whether to feel relieved or angry. Relieved because Martin was still alive and that meant that Cyrodiil wouldn't be overrun by creatures of Oblivion, angry because that meant that he and Kira had risked their lives for nothing. He took a look around at the grinning soldiers and felt his anger dissipate. '_Well, maybe not all for nothing…_' He shook his head and looked back to the soldier. "Do they know where he went?"

"They said they were going to the Imperial City to relight the Dragonfires. They needed Martin because of his power."

Dyxan smiled at her. "Thank you." He turned to Savlian. "I guess this is where I say goodbye, Captain. I must be off."

Savlian, not understanding a thing, nodded slightly. "Well, if you have to, then I won't stand in your way. You and your companion's swords were useful. You will both be known as Heroes of Kvatch."

Dyxan's grin went from one ear to the other. "Thanks, Captain," he said and started walking back to the gate, the smile still not disappearing from his face. '_Heroes, eh?_'

* * *

_Ah, you are back, and you have used magic, I see._

_**What?**_

_Your hand…look at it._

Kira raised her hand to her face, wondering how she could see it in the lightless void she was hanging in. A strange tattoo was in the palm of her hand where there had been nothing before. The very tips of her fingers were burnt as well, stinging whenever she moved them.

_I am so proud of you. You have started back on our path. Do you remember me now?_

…_**no…**_

The voice sighed heavily.

_Then I guess it is time for me to inflict some pain. I am sorry Kira but…wait, on second thought, I am _not_ sorry. You're the one who forgot, not me. Well, I hope you've come prepared, for this will not be easy._

Agonizing ripples of electric pain went through her, a scream erupting from her mouth. It felt like it lasted for hours, her body twitching with enough force to make her back crack. When it was finally over, the voice chuckled.

_You did not like that? Back in the days you could take that without flinching. I guess the time in prison has weakened you more than I thought. What to do, what to do…I suppose I will have to do you a favour and build up your endurance again, what do you say?_

Kira tried to say no, never, anything that meant no, but only gasps could be forced from her mouth, and then the ripples hit again.

* * *

Dyxan was making his way back to the temporary healer's camp where Kira lay when Drei came half running half limping up to him. "Your friend, she's burning with a fever and screaming in her sleep!"

Thoughts of setting his nose back in place and healing his cuts flew out of his head and were replaced with worry as Dyxan ran the rest of the way, slipping in the mud and falling flat on his face. He quickly got up and ran on, leaving Drei to slowly limp his way after him.

Indeed, Kira was screaming while tossing and turning. A healer was trying to bring her fever down with several spells and potions, but nothing seemed to work. Dyxan sat down next to her, not knowing what to do. He picked up her hand with his own and just held it while she screamed. The hand was burning hot, and Dyxan felt worry well up within him like venomous snake. '_Didn't the antidote Jauffre made work? Is the poison a slow working one? Is this even related to the poisoning at all?_' He kept asking himself as hours passed by. The healer worked all through the night, and by about an hour after midnight, Kira stopped screaming, and her fever went down several notches. It was still there, but it was no longer life-threatening.

He still sat there, Kira's hand in his. Another healer was working on his nose, but he didn't notice…at least not until she twisted it back into place. A very unmanly, high-pitched squeak came from his mouth and tears welled up. "Oh, don't be such a child," said the healer as she bandaged some of the deeper cuts he had. The healers had run out of potions, and they were too exhausted to use spells, having healed and taken care of soldiers for days in a row.

Dyxan sighed as the pain slowly ebbed away, aided by some calming herbs the bandages had been soaked in. "Yes ma'am," he said quietly. The rain had stopped, and the fires inside Kvatch were slowly being put out.

"You need to get some fresh air, young man," the healer said after tying the last bandage around his head.

"No, I'd rather stay here and—"

"You. Need. Fresh. Air," she said, saying each word slowly along with a piercing face.

Dyxan gulped and complied and went outside. The walls of Kvatch were too depressing a sight, so he walked over to the edge of the cliff Kvatch was built on. He sat down on a large rock and pondered the last few hours' events. '_How did I manage to get myself into this? I just thought I helped a wounded and injured girl, but now…_'

His thoughts were interrupted by a scratchy laugh. He whirled his head around and saw the same Argonian he had spoken with days ago standing close, her mouth twisted into a smirk. "I see Matilde managed to get you outside after all. I thought she would be too weak."

"O, I'm injured and I'm in no mood to argue with anyone," Dyxan sighed, wondering why everything had to happen to him at once.

"Understandable," the Argonian said and sat down next to him, just like days before. "You remember our conversation?"

"How could I not?"

"Well, remember when I said he was coming to see you?"

"Yeah?" asked Dyxan, his tired brain not quite catching on.

"Well…" she trailed off.

"What Ocheeva is trying to say, Dyxan, is that I'm here right now," said a gruff male voice right next to Dyxan's ear.

Dyxan jumped and stood up, whirling around to come face to face with a man wearing a cloak blacker than the night. "Why do you always have to do that?" he asked, half shouting.

The man laughed, not a very pleasant sound when Dyxan thought about who it came from. "What? A man can't have a bit of fun with an old acquaintance?"

"Not if that acquaintance is me," growled Dyxan. "What do you want, Lucien?"

Lucien clacked his tongue. "Such impatience, so unlike you. Anyway, the reason I'm here is that I've got a proposition for you…"

_To be continued…_

* * *

Argh, and there you are. Thanks for the reviews, you guys. 


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